The Ravvan Crisis
by xXArrowFallsXx
Summary: A top secret mission. Twenty-one clones. A Seperatist controlled planet. Can the clones destroy the Seperatists on their own? And more importantly, can they do it in time? Mainly Scrapper POV, some others mixed in.
1. Beginnings

A large Republic battle cruiser floated against the black velvet backdrop of infinite space. Glossy sequins were scattered throughout, stars in far away systems. The cruiser, surrounded by similar starships and smaller freighters, didn't look special. Just another reminder of the war that boiled between the Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems, or CIS. Inside, however, a meeting was being held that could determine the fate of an entire people.

"So it is decided. You will send a squad down to the planet to capture the separatist base," General Windu was saying.

"Yes, Master," General Calfhan agreed. The hologram slowly dissipated into nothingness.

Commander Backer stepped forward out of one of the many shadowy corners of the large conference room, revealing his plastoid-clad body. His freshly cleaned Phase Two armor gleamed like the moons of Nyla in the lights. Deep red paint, the color of his 99th Legion, marked several places upon the shining white surface: on the helmet fin: above the visor; coloring the left side of his chestplate; on his knee protectors; and on the tips of his recently polished boots. There was a black handprint occupying the right side of his chestplate, and black markings also adorned his helmet. A shoulder pauldron covered his left shoulder, a symbol of his undisputable authority over his troops. Hanging off of his right hip was his modified DC-15A blaster rifle. His helmet was tucked tightly between his body and his arm. Backer stood at attention when facing his general as a sign of respect, even though he had heard every word of the transmission.

General Calfhan turned to Commander Backer. "At ease, Commander." The clone relaxed immediately. "How many times have I told you, you don't need to do that. I know you heard it all, so I won't bother briefing you. Gather twenty of your best troopers. You will set down thirty klicks outside the separatist base. Once there, you will take the source of the rebels' weapons' power."

"Yes, sir," the commander replied, his voice given a robotic undertone due to the helmet's vocabulizer.

"Remember, this is to be an especially covert operation," Calfhan ordered, handing Backer a datapad filled with details on the mission. "Tell no one except for your chosen few."

Again, Backer replied, "Yes, sir," accepting the datapad with his free hand and clipping it to his belt.

"Be careful out there. Ravv was only very recently annexed by the Republic; it has not been extensively searched and not much is known about it. The rebels, however, have lived there for centuries. Combined with the military force of the separatists, it will be difficult."

The commander put his gloved hand on the Jedi's shoulder. Tension seemed to radiate off of him in waves. "You worry too much, General. Don't. My squad and I can handle it."

The Jedi's expression changed. His smile gave a sense of trust. "I know."

The two stopped like that for a short while. The Jedi's green eyes seemed to see through Backer, and after about a minute, the heavy silence was too much. Backer made his way to the door, but Calfhan stopped him.

"Commander, be careful." Lines of worry and concern once again creased the Jedi's human face. Backer simply nodded and kept walking. The door opened with a code. Pausing to put his helmet on, the clone stepped into the mostly empty hall.

••••

Three days later, four Venator-class star destroyers touched down on the sprawling metropolitan planet known as Courascant. About twenty minutes later, the massive cargo areas started the lengthy process of unloading. Backer had transferred back to his command cruiser, _Supernova_ , a seperate ship from the general's, and was the first to exit it. As always, he traveled to his legion's section of the clone barracks, to file the last day's report. Although he could easily file the report from his ship, it was sort of a tradition he kept.

As he walked through the halls of the massive barracks on Courascant, Backer thought of who he would take with him. Surprisingly, his entire legion had been brought to the seat of Republic government, presumably so that he would have the widest choice of soldiers. They had been campaigning on a planet called Predeyn, a harsh tropical world full of savage creatures. The separatists were there first, so they had a few strongholds, but the Republic, with the support of the people, had pressed the separatist droids nearly off the planet. The 99th Legion was conducting raids on the final droid fortress when they were ordered off the planet. The 212th Legion, led by renowned general Obi-Wan Kenobi, landed in the area, taking all responsibilities of the 99th. Now, rumors were spreading that they had won, though no official report has been filed.

 _Cedric_ _. Jace. Trails. Scrapper. Ming._ Names raced through the clone's head like blaster bolts. Over 9,000 brothers to pick from. How could he choose just twenty? And it couldn't just be his friends. They had to be trustworthy, reliable, motivated, skilled. His elite troopers, even if he didn't like them.

The clone commander sighed. _The Jedi must be crazy. How can twenty clones and I dismantle the separatist presence on Ravv alone?_

After what seemed like hours, Backer reached his quarters. He almost absent-mindedly passed it. It was at the beginning of his legion's living area. From there, halls branched to the sides, leading to smaller area. Each rank below him had a smaller and smaller area of jurisdiction. He had jurisdiction over all the troops, but he usually didn't have to excersise it over the living quarters. Besides, most clones spent their time at 79's, the clone bar.

Backer walked to the door to his room. The door slid open with a hiss, then closed shut after he walked through. He had a simple room, like all clones. A small bed against the wall, a comm system, a Holonet display system, a 'fresher. The best part was that he got it all to himself. He took off his helmet, set it down. Scrolled through the contents of the datapad. He had to memorize all the contents by heart. Maybe later. He had three days until he shipped out. He had some time to kill.

After ten minutes in the refresher room, he sat on his bed. Who would he take with him? He had a few ideas. Pulling up an interface on the Holonet, he quickly found the locations of the men he had in mind and others. Fourteen of them were at the barracks. Scrapper and Cedric were here, as well as Leigh, Firefight, and Cükah. The other nine Backer didn't know personally, but they had excellent records. Backer gathered these men easily. He waited for them to get alone, told them what was up, then gave their C.O. his and the Jedi's authority.

The other six men, however, were at 79's. Backer could've just said that they were going on a secret mission and take them but that seemed too obvious. So a few hours later, he left for the bar.

••••

79's wasn't the nicest place, to say the least. It certainly wasn't run down. Credits pumped into this place day in and day out. But most of those credits were spent servicing more clones.

Backer stepped inside. Place was packed. Those six clones were sure going to be hard to find. Thankfully, they all were pretty good friends, so if he found one, he should find most of them.

One clone fell into Backer, nearly knocking him over too. Instead, he grabbed the clone and pushed him back to where he came from. _Drunkards,_ he thought. In his opinion, the Grand Army of the Republic had no place for clones who got drunk. They were unfocused and sometimes dangerous. So Backer disciplined his troopers never to drink too much.

However, one drink couldn't hurt. He shoved his way through the crowds to the bar. After a while, he got the attention of a Zabrak bartender.

"Whaddaya want?" the Zabrak man said in an accent Backer couldn't place.

"I'll just have a Hyperdrive," Backer replied.

"Comin' right up." A moment later, Backer was sipping out of an ice-cold glass.

A scantily-clad blue Twi'lek dancer walked right up to him, swinging her hips, and sat on his lap. And here was the second activity at 79's. Clones would "relax" with the Twi'leks, get a drink, and do it all over again. The girl held his chin so that he was looking right into her emerald green eyes. She simply said, "Come with me."

The clone commander was tempted to do it, to have a night of fun and lollygagging. But no. He had a job to do. "No, thank you," he replied politely. The Twi'lek only looked disheartened for a moment, but then got up and walked away.

All of the sudden there was a roar of distress and a bang! bang! The clones all backed away from an area. Backer rushed to see what happened, letting his glass smash on the ground. Hardly pressing his way through the tightly packed crowed, he saw what had happened. Six clones, his choice of clones, lay on the ground, presumably dead. And there was Scrapper, hands shaking, gun in hand and pointed at his head. A final bang! and Backer dropped to the ground with Scrapper, grieving his friends' loss.

 **A/N Sorry about the cliff hanger, peeps. I had to to set up the next chapter correctly. Don't worry, though! I will have it out as soon as possible. This is my debut fic, so please dont fry me. Any constructive criticism and/or suggestions would be greatly appreciated. I think I've rambled on too long, so this is ArrowFalls, signing out.**


	2. Secrets Are Meant to Be Kept

**A/N Well, this came out quickly. I just really didn't want to leave you guys on a cliffhanger for too long. This one should explain everything. Without further ado, here goes.**

 _Scrapper POV_

 _Geez, that hurt,_ was all Scrapper could think about. Currently, he was completely enveloped in darkness. When he tried to stretch,... well, he couldn't. His raging headache, the slight ringing in his ears, the soreness in all his joints, it was too much. So he just lay there, thinking.

 _I must be in a body bag by now. I wonder how the others are doing?_ He remembered shooting them, Jace and Trails, the other four he didn't know. Their bodies laying on the ground. He imagined where they must be now. Probably assumed dead, as he was now. It was a very effective stun gun, as evidenced by his own immovable body.

Of course, it was only a stun gun. He and Commander Backer were the only ones who knew about the plot. The clones he shot must be wondering what happened to them. Constructing theories, from the understandable to the completely insane.

 _Ah, well. Secrets need to be kept._

The gun he used was a top secret project being developed by the some of the Republic's best scientists. It was disguised to look like a standard-issue DC-15A blaster, and was equipped with multiple settings. Due to the circumstances, he was forced to use the highest setting. The most powerful setting rendered most body functions completely inert, shutting down the areas of the brain that controlled motion, slowing the heart down as much as possible before one would die. Because of the lack of movement or brain usage, the lungs could breath much less often, sometimes going up to two minutes before a breath. His and the other's bodies must've been taken away by then.

Scrapper had no idea how Backer got ahold of those guns, and to be honest, he didn't care. That gun had brought him the closest he'd ever be to killing one of his brothers, and though he knew they didn't die, he could swear he saw something leaving their eyes as he gunned them down. Sometimes the commander got way too involved in his missions.

Backer's performance was excellent, though, from what he saw of it. He had hardly seen Backer before he shot himself, but the look on his face could've convinced him that he didn't know everything that was happening and was actually surprised and scared. After that, everything went black, but Scrapper guessed that his performance continued well.

A jolt sent pain shooting through his body once again. _I must be being unloaded._

A long while passed. No sooner had he regained the ability to move his arms then he heard the sound of a zipper, and light flooded into the bag. He couldn't see anything for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the intense brightness. In a moment or two, he could make out the outline of a face above him. A few moments more and he identified it as a blurry Jace, his best friend within the army.

"Mornin', Sunshine," he heard Jace say.

Scrapper tried to retort, but all that came out was an incomprehensible grunt. _Not ready to talk, I guess._

He tried to use his newfound moving abilities to get up. While the soreness was still quite unbearable, he managed to sit up. His legs wouldn't move more than a few centimeters at a time, though, so sitting was all he could manage.

Looking around, it appeared that he was in some small room. All that was in it was the table he was on, Jace, and him. And there were six figures that he could barely make out against the right wall. His vision was still too foggy to tell who they were. There was a long rectangular window along the left wall, a door on the wall directly in front of him. He turned back to face Jace, who punched him in the gut, making him fall back into the bag.

"That's for shooting me." Then Jace held out his hand, which Scrapper took, and pulled him back into a sitting position. "Couldn't you have at least signaled to me that you were going to shoot me?"

This time Scrapper's voice came out in a hoarse whisper. "You would've run away. Probably screaming." He smiled.

"Yeah, that's me. I always run around screaming." Jace returned the smile.

"Help me up."

Jace pulled Scrapper's arm around his shoulders and helped him crawl fully out of the body bag. By now his headache had reduced to a dull throb and his sore and stiff joints had started to loosen up a bit. Scrapper tried to put all his weight on his own two legs, but quickly leaned back onto Jace.

One of the figures against the wall stepped forward, and Scrapper could make it out as Commander Backer.

"Did the plan work, sir?" Scrapper asked.

"Went off without a kink. Although it did take a bit longer than I would've liked to get you seven out of there. We just have to hope no one saw you breath." He had his helmet on, but Scrapper could guess Backer had grinned at that last part. Their commander wasn't one to worry over tiny details like breathing. Backer continued. "I have informed everyone about the plan, so hopefully, you won't have to take any more punches." Now Scrapper knew he was grinning.

A clone Scrapper didn't know stepped forward from the wall. He said, "I think we'd better go join the the other thirteen. They're going to think Scrapper shot us all." A wave of chuckles passed through the group.

 _Okay. Now they're just making fun of me._

The eight clones exited the small room and entered a much larger room, a warehouse or cargo hold. _It can't be a cargo bay. Any ship that could launch secretly would have to be much too small to have a cargo bay as large as this. So we're still on Courascant._

Shelving units bearing crates were stacked high to the ceiling, and there were also boxes laying strewn about randomly. The whole room looked relatively unused, and had an old musty smell to it. As they continued walking, a small clearing came into view. There were thirteen clones in white-with-red plastoid armor, none wearing their helmets, the armor having varying levels of cleanliness; one clone's armor looked like it hadn't been replaced since the start of the war. The black streaks and crevices made it seem like he had been mauled by a Nexu, hit with a blaster bolt, and fallen off a cliff all at once. For the first time Scrapper realized the weight of his own armor which he hadn't bothered to take off before going to 79's.

When the party of eight joined the other clones, the thirteen stood at attention and saluted to Commander Backer, who quickly waved his hand and said, "At ease."

Scrapper and the six he had shot joined the circle. Commander Backer went to the middle, where a small hologram projector sat. That explained the clearing. Backer didn't turn it on; instead, he slowly turned to look each one of them in the eyes. Then he said, "I've already told you all why you're here. I have been given three days to choose twenty of my most elite soldiers, and I have chosen you. You should consider yourself honored.

"However, none of you know what that mission is. You are all equally in the dark. To put it simply: we twenty-one clones are going to dismantle a Separatist base on the planet Ravv. Alone."

A murmur swept through the circle. _That's suicide!_ Scrapper though, and he was sure most of them thought that too. But no one said a word. They all knew better.

"Gather 'round." Backer waved a hand, and the circle closed around the projector. He took out a datapad that was clipped onto his belt. Pushing it into the display system, he continued. "Now, our mission is to capture a major Separatist base. Once captured, Republic support will be able to land using the landing bays. This base will open up an invasion of the whole planet."

The datapad's information finished loading. A menu opened, and Backer picked a map of the area. Above the table formulated a light blue 3D map. "The plan is to land 30 klicks east of the base;" he gestured to the forests east of the base, "far enough to not be seen, but close enough to get there quickly." He pulled up a technical readout of the garrison. "We will stop about one klick out and snipe the sentries before moving on to the east gate. Our code-breakers have intercepted a transmission and cracked the input number for this gate." He zoomed in to demonstrate the inside of the massive base.

"Once inside, a group of four will infiltrate the control room and disable the security measures. The remaining seventeen of us will storm the center chamber, where the source of power for the rebel's AA turrets are. Once done, the four in the control room will send a transmission to the Republic fleet led by General Calfhan waiting just outside the system. The ships will fly in and provide the invasion fleet, and our job will be done."

"Wow. That simple, eh?" commented the man with the busted up armor.

"Hey, it wasn't my idea to do this alone. It needs to be covert because if we are successful, it will open up a gateway to the entire system. We can't afford to let the Separatists mount a defense."

"We ship out tomorrow." Backer ejected the datapad from the projector, then pulled out twenty data chips from his belt and handed one to each of them. "If you tell anyone about what has been spoken about today, I will find out. And you will be executed." A few people nervously laughed. "I'm serious."

On that note, the clones started to leave the warehouse. "Wait." The commander held up a hand, signaling to stop. "You seven," he said, gesturing to the clones who had 'died', "stay here. The rest of you can leave." Scrapper watched as one by one, the other thirteen clones disappeared in the maze of crates.

"Anyone have any idea why I held you up?"

"Because we're supposed to be dead," one of the unknown clones answered.

"Yes, and I'd like to keep you dead. You'll be staying here for the night, and tomorrow. Don't worry, after the mission, we will be able to disclose the information regarding what happened today. If you don't make it through the mission, then nothing will change, but let's not think about that."

"Well, now that you've brought it to our minds,..." Scrapper commented.

Backer just rolled his eyes. "Beds are to the right. Two lefts, a right, then a left should get you there." He walked over to a smallish crate, opened it. "Rations." He tossed them each a packet. "Now, get to it."


End file.
